


Love's an Angel Disguised as Lust

by RachelAnarchy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Eventual Smut, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Maybe Some Fluff Too, Not too much angst really, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform, Tension, slow burn probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelAnarchy/pseuds/RachelAnarchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is back from Purgatory and Dean needs to get something off his chest. The hunter could ignore it when he figured it was just some ill-advised desire, but when the angel he thought he'd lost returned, he knew it was more than that.</p><p>Much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place shortly after Season 8, Episode 7: A Little Slice of Kevin. The title is based on lyrics from a great 70's song, "Because the Night" by Patti Smith Group. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. Happy reading!
> 
> ETA: This is a work in progress, with smut to come. (That's the plan, at least!) : D Feel free to comment if you have feedback or if you wanted to chat about SPN. Cheers and many thanks!

Scowling, Dean Winchester paced around Rufus’ old cabin in Whitefish, Montana. Sam was who-knows-where, finding a safe place to stash Linda Tran while her son, the prophet, tried to translate the remaining half of the demon tablet. He let out a deep breath and sat down heavily on the ratty leather couch. Resting his head against the back, he allowed some of the tension in his body to dissipate. His brother would make sure the prophet’s mom got where she needed to be in one piece. And Garth, goofy as the dude may be, is a damn good hunter and would look after Kevin while he did the whole “prophet thing”. 

Dean scrubbed his unshaven face with his hand and stood back up to resume his pacing. He, on the other hand, couldn’t be trusted with a simple thing like keeping family safe.

No, keeping the people he _loved_ safe. 

And that was exactly why he made up some BS about a possible haunting not too far from Whitefish. Told Sam he saw an article online and he’d head out here in the Impala to check it out. That he’d catch up with Sam later, after he dropped off Mrs. Tran. Dean sighed and strode over to the fridge for a beer.

It never did sit right with him--lying to his brother about this or that--but he needed to clear his head. After Cas dropped the bomb that he didn’t escape from Purgatory with him because he didn’t _deserve_ to be free, Dean didn’t know what to think. 

No. That’s not entirely true. Dean knew what it was to feel he didn’t deserve to be saved. In fact, the angel had called him out on it within five minutes of meeting him.

Deciding a beer wasn’t going to cut it tonight, he replaced the _El Sol_ bottle and reached across the counter for the whiskey. After he poured himself two fingers he sat at the kitchen table to do what he’d been working up to for the last hour or so. Dean downed the burning liquid in one gulp and slammed the glass, the muscles in his jaw twitching over clenched teeth.

“Well, it’s now or never.” Folding his hands in front of him, Dean prayed. “Hey Cas, I dunno if you’re still runnin’ low on mojo, and if you can even hear me, but I’m at the cabin in Montana. Think you could zap yourself over here? There’s something I gotta talk with you about.” He paused and looked around the room, but it was empty. No sign the trench coat-wearing angel heard him, or was even listening. Pressing his eyes shut, he gave it another go. “C’mon, man. You out there? Cas?” His stomach did a little flip in anticipation and he opened his eyes. _Guess this is what they mean by butterflies..._

But there was no one there.

Dean lowered his head and gave an imperceptible nod. It would figure, wouldn’t it? He was ready as he’d ever be to put himself out there, to tell Cas that losing him in Purgatory had pretty much _broken_ him. That he never stopped blaming himself for losing the only person he ever truly... He snatched up the empty tumbler and stalked toward the sink. “Damn it, Cas!” The glass shattered loudly against the metal basin.

Absentmindedly focusing on the shards now strewn about, a faint _woosh_ sounded behind him. Before he could turn around, the familiar gruff voice uttered his name.

“Dean.” The angel wavered on his feet and nearly toppled over. 

“Cas!” Dean caught him, circling his arms around his waist under his coat. “Woah. Take it easy, man.” 

Now steadied, Cas took a step back as if correcting himself. “Personal space. My apologies.”

Dean laughed under his breath. “Right. Personal space.” He fixed Cas’ lapel and gave him a gentle pat before squeezing his shoulders. He slid his hands down a bit and held his upper arms firmly yet softly, afraid the angel would disappear as quickly as he appeared. “Are you alright? What happened?”


	2. Chapter 2

"Um..." Castiel attempted a reply for Dean, but the use of his wings had weakened him more than expected. He tried again, focusing intently on forming the words through the odd haze clouding his mind. "My grace... It hasn't fully recovered from my time in Purgatory.”

As Dean cursed under his breath it occurred to Cas the hunter still held his arms. Peculiar, and unnecessary since he was now able to stand of his own accord. With narrowed eyes he looked at Dean, then down to his hand, rough and scarred from years of fighting. Dean pulled back abruptly and Cas tilted his head to the side. _Very peculiar._ This Winchester rarely initiated, let alone maintained physical contact, even with his own brother. Then again Cas didn’t always understand the subtleties of human give and take. 

Castiel rubbed his temple--the dizziness wasn’t subsiding as quickly as he hoped it would when he made the decision to heed Dean’s call. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse by the moment.

"Why did you call me here, Dean?"

"Cas, look. I wouldn’t have if I knew the trip was going to mess you up. I'm sorry for dragging you out here."

"It’s fine--I'll heal. Eventually. Though it takes longer the more I use my powers."

Dean raked his hand through shortly cropped hair. He always kept his hair short, not unlike that required of most militaries here on earth. In a strange way it did make sense; Dean Winchester had been a soldier more or less his entire life. Drafted by his father into a war without end. Cas certainly identified with him in this regard. When he had served heaven, he often felt like nothing more than a weapon to be used then forgotten once the battle was over. Remembered only when a new enemy reared its head.

He wondered if Dean ever felt the same.

“Think we could sit down?” Dean finally asked.

“Of course,” Cas agreed and moved to slide into one of the kitchen chairs. He sat down and brought his hand to his nose when a slight tickle began to irritate him, and found the back of his hand covered in blood when he pulled it away. Severe lightheadedness struck and he struggled to stay seated upright.

“Sonofa...” Dean growled and rushed in front of him to cradle his lolling head. “No, you are _not_ fine!” 

Soon, Cas could no longer make out his frantic words. The fog in his head grew thicker and before long he heard only ringing in his ears, felt only the warm trickle of blood over his lips. As he slipped from consciousness, a towel was pressed to his face to staunch the bleeding but he still managed to convey a weary plea.

“I need... to rest...”

Dean’s lips moved, probably questioning his request. Despite his best efforts to keep his eyes open Cas could no longer hold on, and passed out with a soft groan.


	3. Chapter 3

Cas’ body slumped in the chair and he attempted to right him, letting out a stream of obscenities until the angel was stabilized. With one hand under his arm and the other behind his neck, fingers threaded through dark tousled hair, Dean gave him a little shake.

“Hey.” No response, so he shook harder. “Hey! Cas? I need you to wake up buddy.” He leaned Cas to the side and supported his upper body with the length of his arm while holding a hand under his nose. _Do angels even breathe?_ he wondered.

Dean’s heart stopped as he waited to feel the puff of air against his fingers; it only took a second or two, but felt like an eternity. Cas finally exhaled a deep breath, followed by a faint snore through his slightly agape mouth. The hunter couldn’t help but throw his head back and give a hearty laugh.

“You scared me for a minute there, you feathered bastard!”

He reached again for the dishtowel to wipe the blood from Cas’ face now that the bleeding had stopped. Once he was mostly cleaned up, Dean moved his head from left to right, giving Castiel a onceover to ensure nothing else was going on with him. _Looks alright,_ he figured with a shrug and then sighed heavily.

“So what the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

 _Rest,_ Dean remembered. Cas said he needed to rest. But he hadn’t seen the angel this out of it from using his powers since he sent him and Sam back in time to save their parents from Anna. When they got back from 1978 he spent a solid twenty-four hours comatose before he could walk and talk, and even then it was just barely. Cas probably could’ve used another day or two to recuperate back then, but his brother was eager to get back on the road, so what could Dean do? They left him to fend for himself, just like they always have, and just like it always did it made Dean feel like crap. Guilty, a little pissed at Sam, and even angrier with himself.

“Sorry Sammy,” Dean said and scooped Cas up from the chair. “Looks like you’ll be on your own for another day or so.”

The angel was only a few inches shorter than Dean, but was lighter than he thought he’d be. He was slender, yet firm. His late vessel, Jimmy Novak, must’ve been a runner or into some yoga-patchouli-pilates or whatever. He easily adjusted Cas in his arms and headed from the kitchen to the living area. Dean glanced over his lean body, hidden under wrinkled layers of business casual, and smiled at the crooked blue tie hanging off to the side.

He came upon the couch and furrowed his brows at the disarray. Several lore books and a few newspapers littered the cushions, remnants from their last hunt, as well as an old Biggerson’s takeout container on one end. Dean shuddered. Sam still ate there on occasion, but after the TDK Slammer incident he wouldn’t touch the place with a ten foot pole.

“Bed it is,” Dean grunted and continued on to the cabin’s lone bedroom.

It wasn’t much--just a creaky full-sized with frayed sheets. But it was clean, more comfortable than the bunks, and would keep out the Montana winter chill. He set Cas down softly, more gently than he would if his brother was watching and unfolded an extra blanket from the bottom of the bed, shaking it out before he laid it down over him. Satisfied, Dean pulled a lighter from his pocket and left the bedroom. On his way over to the freshly-stocked fireplace, he grabbed some newspaper for tinder.

With the fire started, Dean sat on the cleaner side of the sofa and leaned toward the portable AM/FM radio on the coffee table. He flicked the power on, turned down the volume dial a bit, and tuned it to a local classic rock station. Dean sat back while Tommy Shaw belted out Styx’s “Man in the Wilderness”. Arms folded over his chest and legs crossed on the low table, his eyelids became heavy. The lyrics barely registered in his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

_I spend my life and sell my soul on the road.  
And I’m still in the dark,  
‘cause I can’t seem to find the light alone... _


	4. Chapter 4

_Running._

_Always running._

_Cas had to keep moving--somehow, the Leviathan always found him. This place... This dark, wild nightmare was no place for an angel. No place for any of God’s creatures. But he, more so than any of them, deserved to be imprisoned in Purgatory for all eternity. In a reprehensible act of hubris he had released the Leviathan upon the earth and this is how it should end for him. Consumed by his Father’s first beasts as punishment for playing God himself._

_Their shouts became louder; they were catching up to him. So close. It won’t be long now._

_He fought, his limbs thrashing about, but he was caught in the iron grip of one of the foul things pursuing him._

“No!”

“Settle down, will ya? You’re dreaming man, this isn’t Purgatory. Wake up! Cas!”

His strength had left him, his struggle fruitless. He could barely even open his eyes to face his attacker, but a blurry form eventually appeared before him. Bright green eyes stared at Cas and a deep crease lined the space between his brows.

“Dean?” Cas frantically looked past him on either side for Leviathan. “Dean, you can’t be here! You went through the portal. You escaped! Why are you here, Dean? Why are you here...”

His thoughts muddled and his head fell back as his weakness threatened to overcome him. Cas braced for the feeling of cold, damp earth, for the stench of decomposition that persisted here in Purgatory, and finally for the evil beings to pounce. To end him once and for all. That he accepted, but not Dean as well. He forced himself up on his arms and willed forth his last reserves of power to smite any Leviathan that sought to harm... Cas blinked when Purgatory's familiar trappings never manifested. This was not the bleak place of death he had expected. He was surrounded by warmth and softness, and noted the scent of fire burning in a nearby hearth.

“Hey now,” Dean said, carefully pushing Cas’ outstretched hand aside. “Watch where you aim that thing.”

Confused, Cas lowered his arm. His surroundings came into focus and he recalled the recent events that led him here. He had indeed made it out of Purgatory, though he was unsure how. Dean had called him to this cabin but his powers were severely depleted. He must have passed out soon after arriving...

“I don’t...” Cas shook his head, grasping the blanket in his hands to convince himself he was really there. “I don’t usually dream.”

“Ah, well you’re missing out then.” Dean gave him a couple of firm pats on the shoulder and stood. “Dreams aren’t all nightmares and bad memories, my friend,” he said with a suggestive curve of his lips.

Cas narrowed his eyes at the vague statement. “What do you dream about, Dean?”

Dean cleared his throat before turning away, and Cas tilted his head at his lack of reply. He was an angel with several millennia worth of knowledge and experience but this human, this hunter, still had the ability to perplex him.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean pushed a hand through his hair.

 _Damn it._ He'd walked himself right into that one, didn't he? There was no way in hell he was telling Cas about the dreams he'd been having. The ones that woke him up at all hours with a sheen of sweat, sporting a raging hard-on, and seeking a kind of release he'd never even considered before. Wondering if the object of his fantasies could even act them out, physically, let alone had any interest in those types of things in the first place.

The blankets rustled and Cas sat up, slowly swinging his legs from the bed to face the small bedroom window. He seemed to gain his bearings while peering through the frost-edged pane of glass into the night.

"What time is it?" he asked, and looked down to his feet. "And where are my shoes?"

"About half past midnight. And your shoes are right here." Dean gestured to the spot on the floor where he had placed them.

"I've been out since sundown?"

"Since sundown yesterday," he corrected.

"I had no idea..." Cas wearily moved to stand but Dean wouldn't have it.

"Nope." He lightly pushed the angel back down onto the bed, allowing his hand to linger for a second or two longer than necessary before folding his arms in front of his chest. "Look, your grace could still use some R and R, so just hang here for a while to recharge or reboot or whatever it is that you need to do to get better."

"But--"

Dean interrupted his protest before he could finish. "You got some pressing matter that can't wait until you heal?"

"Uh, I suppose not." Cas furrowed his brows. "Why did you remove my shoes again?"

"Why did I--I dunno Cas, so you'd be more comfortable? What's the friggin' deal with your damn shoes anyway? I mean, angels do _feel_ things don't they? Pain, comfort... Anything?"

After a short pause, he answered. "Of course we do. Why would you think otherwise?"

Throwing his hands up, he growled in frustration and paced around. "Maybe because you get stabbed, you don't flinch. You fall eight stories, you walk away like it was nothing. Or,” he amended, “zap away like it was nothing."

"Dean. Angels _do_ feel." He looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. "We feel, and we feel deeply. Pain, comfort, and everything else that you would. Heaven’s training is rigorous and after a while you learn to ignore the distractions, no matter how much it hurts.” He sighed, shoulders hunched. “At times I wonder if we feel things more so than humans do. We just don't have the time or the luxury to dwell on it." Pointedly, Cas made eye contact with him. "Or to enjoy it."

Looking at the floorboards, Dean let out a nervous laugh and scratched the back of his neck. "Okay, right. Got it. So what, are you surprised I'd make an effort to make you more comfortable? You saying I'm not the warm and fuzzy type or something?" he teased.

"Well..." Cas considered his question before continuing. "You are a mammal so technically you're both warm, and at least somewhat, fuzzy."

Stifling a chuckle though careful to keep his face perfectly serious, Dean nodded in agreement. "You're absolutely right Cas, thank you." His tone was dry but he loved the way the angel's mind worked. And now to learn the rest of him worked like a human, or at least that he could feel in the same way that a human did... That was an interesting development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sooo... First off, thank you kindly for reading what I have so far. I love this show and the characters and wanted to explore the "not-quite-so-canon" side of things. Though I do write a little bit, this is my first ever fanfic. Now that I'm a few thousand words in I'm wondering, am I on the right track and are you digging it so far?
> 
> Self-doubt can be a persistent little bugger... : / 
> 
> Anyway, thanks again!


	6. Chapter 6

Cas blinked. Dean had been acting rather odd since he arrived--asking strange questions and appearing somewhat preoccupied in general. Not that the hunter’s actions always made sense to him... But he had fully expected to have been less-than-politely asked to leave by now.

“I appreciate you allowing me to stay here to heal, Dean. I’m sure you’ll need to be on your way soon and that you’re eager to meet up with your brother. You mentioned you needed to discuss something with me when you called. What is it?”

Dean brought his hand up to bite a short fingernail and inhaled a deep breath before he replied. “Right. That.” He sat on the far end of the bed and looked through the window at his black Impala parked outside. A porchlight out front cast a soft glow on snowflakes as they started to drift onto the car he fondly referred to as “Baby”.

Slanting his head in an effort to read Dean’s face, Cas tried to urge him on. “Dean?”

“Damn it!” Dean growled and went over to the window. Resting his hands on the ledge, he lowered his head and shook it, eyes shut.

Cas stood tentatively, still feeling some residual effects of his weakened grace. “Have I upset you?”

Dean’s shoulders shook slightly; evidently he found that question to be humorous. He let out an exasperated sigh but Cas could hear the smile in his voice when he answered, “No Cas, I’m not upset with you.”

He took a few steps toward Dean before stopping an arm’s length away. “Then what is it?”

Dean was silent for a moment, but Cas waited patiently. Finally he turned to face him. Cas was surprised to see the hunter actually looked... Terrifed.

“Look, I’ve never been good with this kinda stuff. And _this_ whole thing?” Dean pointed from himself to Cas and back again. “It is _way_ outta my comfort zone.”

“Dean, I don’t understand.” Cas took another step forward. “What whole thing?”

Small beads of sweat had formed on Dean’s forehead around his hairline, and he wiped them away with his sleeve. “I just don’t think I can--” He made a low guttural sound of frustration and followed it up with a laugh.

Throughout this bizarre display, Cas noted, Dean refused to make eye contact with him.

Cas opened his mouth to ask again what he meant, but he interrupted him.

“Wait.” Dean held up his hands. “Okay, wait a minute,” he said as if recalling something important. “A couple years ago, back on the case with the Horseman--Famine. You read that Cupid’s mind. Remember?”

“Yes,” Cas confirmed, nodding slowly.

“Could you do that again, but with me? Or would it screw you up even more?”

“I could, yes. And no, it would not affect me too significantly. But you would have to open up your mind to me and project the thoughts you wish for me to hear. It doesn’t work without permission,” he explained. “If you’re willing to share this with me, I’d be more than happy to listen.”


	7. Chapter 7

_No turning back after this,_ Dean thought, but something about finally coming clean with the angel made his heart skip. Even if Cas outright rejected him, at least now he would know what he really felt about him. And at least Dean would have been honest with himself. For once in his life.

But if Cas actually shared his feelings? Dean’s stomach dropped--he hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. Nothing like going in with a plan of having absolutely no freakin’ plan... But the chances of him feeling the same way? Slim to none, Dean quickly determined. His luck didn’t work that way. _Fuck it,_ he decided. _Let’s get this horror show over with._

“Dean?” Cas persisted and pulled him from his thoughts.

“Yeah?” He met curious blue eyes. “Yeah, okay.” Nodding, he mustered up all his nerve and tried to focus. “Alright, you just need me to concentrate on what I want you to know?”

“Yes.” Cas raised his middle and index finger and paused. “Are you ready?”

“As I’m gonna be,” Dean grumbled.

Cas squinted slightly before touching his fingers to Dean’s forehead. “The contact helps the connection,” he explained. “But if you prefer I don’t touch you--”

“No,” Dean shook his head and closed his eyes. “It’s fine, Cas. Go ahead.”

A tingling feeling began in the base of his skull, nothing like the allover warmth he felt whenever Cas healed him or the icy sensation in his gut when the angel zapped him somewhere without warning. Dean pushed aside the weird awareness of having someone else in his mind in order to tell Cas something he just couldn’t find the words for. Didn’t have the strength to say face-to-face.

He projected a series of images, everything from all the times he woke up with Cas watching over him to when he appeared in the mirror’s reflection after his escape from Purgatory. And with those memories, Dean conveyed the emotions that went along with them. At first it was an unexpected desire he had tried to deny that eventually became something he could no longer ignore. He had started to feel more than just the physical attraction toward him. Whenever Cas would answer his call he’d have to tone down how happy he was to see him. At times he felt protective of the angel, or jealous, and he found he definitely didn’t want to let him down. Cas, the dorky, weird angel. The damn baby in a trench coat who always thought he was doing the right thing, even if he was doing the worst thing, made Dean want to be a better man.

And when he hacked his way through Purgatory to find him? Through all those months of fighting and killing, blood and gore, Dean had one single-minded motivation. One thing that kept him going. Hell, one thing that kept him alive. Finding Cas. That was it.

But to find him only to lose him again? Followed by spending all this time sure he was gone for good and blaming himself? The guilt nearly broke Dean...

The final thing he needed to show Cas, what made Dean know this wasn’t simply lust and that it hadn’t been for some time, was how the hunter felt when his angel was back. The relief was immeasurable. He’d lost people before, sure. And that pain never fully goes away. Some people he lost even came back to him in one way or another, but with Castiel it was different. Not better really, or more important. Just different. Like a piece of Dean had been missing and when Cas returned he was whole again...

_If that even makes any sense._

Frustrated, Dean opened his eyes and pushed Cas’ hand to the side. “Damn it man, are you even getting any of this?”


	8. Chapter 8

At some point Cas had closed his eyes to focus more intently on Dean’s projections, thinking his damaged grace had somehow distorted their meaning. But no matter what corner of the hunter’s mind he searched, the thoughts were the same. The emotions behind them were the same.

“But...” Cas opened his eyes and shook his head slowly. “Dean, I don’t understand.”

Sitting against the sill, Dean chuckled. “I figured as much.” His expression was soft, his smile relaxed. “But I had to tell you. I wanted you to know.”

Cas stood there for a moment, a short step in front of him, very aware of expectant green eyes watching his own. His gaze drifted back to the snow now accumulating outside. He turned back to him when Dean laughed quietly under his breath.

“What’s funny?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose along the line of freckles running from one cheekbone to the other, Dean looked at the floor. “Nothing man, you just zone out at some of the worst times.” Head down, he stood and began to walk away. “Look, just--never mind. Just forget I even brought this up, okay?”

Catching his wrist, Cas stopped him in his tracks. “Why would I do that?”

Dean didn’t face him. “Listen, this was a mistake. I should’ve kept it to myself. I just thought... Hell, I don’t know what I thought.” He tried to pull his arm away. “Cas, let me go. Stay here as long as you need to get better, but I’m packing up and heading out.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He finally turned back to Cas. “You’re kidding, right?” Dean yanked his hand free from his grip. “I just freaking spilled my heart out to you, and you don’t even have a response. I mean, I’m not real big on sharing in the first place, but if you haven’t noticed, you’re a bit different from my usual type.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Because I’m an angel?”

“I--what? No. I mean yes, but that’s not what I mean.” Dean pushed his hand through his hair and back down over his face. “Rrggh, what was I thinking?” After a few seconds, he composed himself. Mumbling something about leaving before the roads got too bad, he began stuffing jeans and flannel shirts into a canvas backpack.

“Dean, wait.” He ignored Cas, slinging the bag over his shoulder and heading over to the table to collect a few more personal items. “Dean, please stop.”

His back to Cas, Dean sighed heavily. “Look man, I get it. You’re not interested. Let’s not make a big deal out of it, alright?”

Now it was Cas’ turn to laugh. “Not interested? Dean, you misunderstand me. It’s clear now that you’ve misunderstood me for years.”

He paused. “Misunderstood what?”

Cas followed him into the kitchen, feeling frustrated yet excited and still a bit off-kilter from his weakened grace. He nearly stumbled but managed to steady himself against a chair.

“Easy,” Dean said as he dropped his belongings to the floor and held onto Cas under his elbows. When he was balanced on his own two feet Dean moved to step away, but Cas didn’t let go of his forearms.

“Dean, I don’t have a response because I’ve already told you how I feel about you.”

The hunter scrunched up his face. “What? When? Cas, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Looking up at the ceiling, Cas smiled. It didn’t surprise him Dean never interpreted certain things as they were intended. The hunter’s self-worth had been low for as long as he’d known him and Cas should have anticipated that his actions wouldn’t be taken as he meant for them to be.

“Think back, Dean. Think back to when Uriel and I brought you in to interrogate Alastair. I told you then heaven had demoted me because I was getting too close to you. And I would have given anything for you not to have had to do what we asked of you.” Cas lowered his head. “I would’ve given anything for you not to have tortured again... Then, I eventually rebelled for you, I even fell for you. I’m a fallen angel, Dean, and it was all for you.” He raised his head to meet Dean’s eyes. “When Hester said that I had fallen in every way imaginable she--she wasn’t wrong. And later... I separated from you in Purgatory to act as Leviathan bait, just to give you a fighting chance. These things I’ve done, everything I continue to do, it’s not for humanity, or even ‘The Winchesters’. It’s just. For you.” Releasing Dean’s arms, Cas shook his head. “I don’t know how else to show you how much you mean to me.”

Dean sat in the closest chair and leaned back, eyes wide.


	9. Chapter 9

This, he had _not_ expected.

Dean thought back to all the times Cas had gone above and beyond for him, even laid down his life...

He swallowed, hard. Damn, he could use a drink. _When the fuck did the air get so dry in here?_

"I thought," he began thickly and cleared his throat. Scratching the back of his head, he tried again. "You said we were like family Cas, you never said..."

" _You_ said 'family' Dean; I was just happy you'd finally accepted me. For all my flaws and the errs of my ways--"

"Flaws? C’mon Cas, no one's perfect. We're only hu--" Dean stopped before he finished the sentence when Cas placed a finger under his chin, canting his head up to meet his eyes. 

"Human?" Cas questioned with an indulgent smile.

"You know what I mean. Angel grace or not, we all make mistakes. I sure as hell know I've made more than my fair share." Dean sat up, tentatively closing his eyes and leaning into Cas' touch. Index finger under his jaw, Cas brushed the pad of his thumb over the scruff on Dean's chin. Dean licked his lips, not even realizing he had done so until it'd already happened.

"Cas," Dean breathed, in a state of disbelief that this was actually happening yet amazed at how right it felt. At the sound of his name, Cas opened his hand and tenderly cupped the side of his face. Dean responded by placing his hand over Cas' and cursing softly, shocked at how naturally these intimate touches seemed to come to them.

When Dean squeezed his hand, Cas stepped forward and bridged the space left between them. Cas’ free hand clasped his shoulder and then unhurriedly traveled up to the side of his neck, stopping just under his ear. His nearness, his scent of linen drying on a clothesline under the summer sun had Dean’s pulse picking up and blood rushing to his cock. He turned his head slightly, enough to brush his lips along Cas’ palm and then kiss the skin at the inside of his wrist. Cas took a shuddering breath. Dean opened his eyes and smiled, pleased he was also having an effect on the angel.

Dean smoothed his fingers down the ever-present tie before slipping his hand over Cas’ firm, flat stomach. Cas grasped the hair at the back of Dean's neck, a conspicuous bulge forming in the front of his dark slacks. Raising a brow, Dean looked up at him. Cas moved to pull away, obviously embarrassed at the physical response of his human body. Without a word Dean stood, hooking a finger under and around the tie’s knot, effectively keeping Cas in place. Though Dean suspected despite his weakened state, he could still break free if he really wanted to. Much to Dean’s relief, he didn’t try. Cas’ gaze flicked from Dean’s eyes to his mouth and back again. Dean couldn’t resist the temptation to run his thumb over the angel’s distinctive lips, mimicking Cas’ action from earlier, only slightly higher.

His eyes were bright under hooded lids, a deeper shade of blue than Dean had ever seen. “Cas,” he whispered, his middle finger now tracing the shape of his mouth. “Tell me what you want.”

After a few second’s hesitation, he answered.

“I... I think I want... I would like your lips on mine, Dean. If that’s alright.”


	10. Chapter 10

Cas’ breath caught in his throat. He searched the green depths of Dean’s eyes, steeling himself for the anger or shame or even uncertainty he feared he'd see, but found only warmth. No, it was more than that--it was _heat_. The fire in his eyes burned raw, unruly... Much like the man himself.

Dean shifted one hand from Cas' mouth and the other released his tie to meet at either side of Cas' neck, his right thumb sweeping over the jumping pulse point for a moment. In a measured, sure movement, Dean pushed one hand back and up to cradle his head, fingers buried in his hair.

As an angel, Cas had probably seen every type of human interaction possible, but actually experiencing this kind of intimacy firsthand with someone who meant so much to him was... Well, to use Dean's vernacular, it was _fucking awesome_. Cas gripped the sides of Dean's jacket at his waist, wanting to instead explore under the hunter's flannel shirt to seek out the skin beneath but still too timid and unsure of these new feelings to do so.

Taking a step, Dean settled closer to Cas and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together lightly. Warm breath fanned over Cas' lips, which seemed to part of their own accord. His groin as well had responded to Dean's words and his touch, an urgent, unrelenting need having formed low in his belly extending to his now throbbing erection. This reaction had happened to Cas on a few occasions but never to this extent--it had never so clearly demanded another's attention before, the desire for release insistent and undeniable. Cas whispered Dean's name on a sigh.

The grip behind his head tightened at that, a sharp pull at his hair that was anything but painful. Dean tilted down to one side and dragged his lips along the stubble of Cas' cheek. Cas gathered more army-green fabric into his hands, still not touching Dean's torso or pushing his pelvis into him like he truly wanted, like instinct urged him to.

Their noses brushing together, Dean spoke against the upper edge of Cas' mouth, over a faint scar on the top of his lip this body obtained while it was still human. “Cas. If you want this like I do, and I really fucking want this, then you can't hold back.”

Cas twisted Dean's jacket tighter. “I do. I want it too, it's just... I've never--” he trailed off, shaking his head.

He chuckled quietly against Cas' skin. “And you think I have?”

“Dean, please. I'm well aware you're no vir--”

He quieted Cas' comeback in an instant, delicately taking Cas' lower lip between his teeth then closing his own lips, pulling back with soft suction before letting go. A strangled groan escaped Cas at the hot, wet feel of Dean’s mouth on his.

Dean blinked, apparently surprised at his own boldness, then closed his eyes and leaned his forehead back against Cas'. Cas fondly recalled one of his first conversations with the hunter, when years ago the two of them stood alone in a different moonlight-filled kitchen. Dean had threatened Cas right before affecting a very similar look, taken aback by his brazen behavior toward a being with the power to smite him in the blink of an eye.

Even then, Cas already had a soft spot for Dean and his stubborn impertinence, his blatant disregard for authority. His strength and courage to stand up to fight the evils of this plane and beyond, even if it would kill him. _Did_ kill him.

Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man.

“I'm pretty sure we're both dealing with first times in one way or another here, man. Don't hold back Cas, if you want this, if you want...” Dean hesitated, clenched his jaw. “If you want... me, then please.” Dean opened his eyes and held Cas with an intense stare. “Take what you want.”


	11. Chapter 11

The angel studied Dean’s eyes for what seemed like forever, only looking away as he bit his own lower lip--a lip that was still a pleasant shade of pink from Dean’s attentions a moment ago. And that thought only served to get more blood flowing to the hard-on already straining against his jeans.

 _Fuck..._ Knowing he caused that raw, sexy blush on Cas’ lip had Dean’s cock throbbing, almost painfully, but he wouldn’t push him. He had to know Cas wanted this like he did. Had to know Cas wanted... him.

Cas released Dean’s jacket and his hands trailed down the buttons of his open flannel shirt, finally settling over the bottom of the dark tee underneath. He lifted it slowly, tilting his head and watching as he exposed a sliver of Dean’s stomach above his belt. Dean sucked in a quick breath as Cas slipped one searching hand under his shirt, then the other. His fingers shyly skimmed up his abdomen, a teasing tickle that nearly had Dean trembling under his touch.

Before tonight, Dean had thought if he were ever lucky enough to share these kinds of touches with Cas he might feel at least a hint of guilt or shame, but as it turned out, he felt none of those emotions. Instead, this felt natural. It felt _right_. And with the cabin warded from demons, other angels, and pretty much everything else, he’d be more than happy to wait out the snowstorm in this drafty little shack in the middle of nowhere. Just so long as Cas was here with him...

“Dean?” Cas’ gravelly voice was a soft plea that brought him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah Cas?” Dean swallowed a moan as Cas splayed his fingers over his chest, warm palms resting on his pecs.

Cas looked at him from under dark lashes, his eyes sincere and piercing.

“I want you, Dean.” His grip tightened, but not painfully so, before traveling around to his back. “I’ve wanted you for a very long time. Maybe since the day we met...” Cas dragged his fingers down either side of his spine roughly, and Dean cursed. His hands then came to rest over his ass, pulling Dean's lower half forward so their bodies were flush against each other. Their cocks were now firmly pressed together, with only a few layers of fabric acting as a barrier.

With one hand buried in Cas’ hair and the other beneath his trench to untuck the white button-down, Dean captured the angel’s lips in an urgent kiss. Cas seemed just as impatient, his tongue exploring and his hips grinding rhythmically while he pulled Dean even closer. The friction was fucking exquisite torture, almost enough to make him come, but there was no way he was ending the night like that. He needed more; he needed them to be skin to skin.

Cas must’ve had the same idea, not breaking away from their kiss as he pulled off his coat and tossed it on the table. The next to go was his tie--Cas loosened it quickly and pulled back from their embrace long enough to lift it over his head, widening his eyes when Dean grabbed the front of Cas’ shirt to rip it open and send several buttons flying.

Shrugging, Dean smirked. Cas gave his own lopsided grin, shaking his head before pulling Dean to him for another deep kiss. Dean allowed Cas to push him back into one of the kitchen chairs and then sat down when his legs hit the seat.

“C’mere you,” Dean grunted and pulled Cas down onto his lap.


End file.
